“Jacques, M. de Boiscoran, do you forget that you have given me your word of honor?”

“The proof that I have not forgotten it is that you see me here.  But, never mind, the day is not very far off when you will see me so wretched that you yourself will be the first to put a weapon into my hands.”

But the young advocate was one of those men whom difficulties only excite and stimulate, instead of discouraging.  He had already recovered somewhat from the first great shock, and he said,—­

“Before you throw down your hand, wait, at least, till the game is lost.  You are not sentenced yet.  Far from it!  You are innocent, and there is divine justice.  Who tells us that Count Claudieuse will really give evidence?  We do not even know whether he has not, at this moment, drawn his last breath upon earth!”

Jacques leaped up as if in a spasm, and turning deadly pale, exclaimed,—­

“Ah, don’t say that!  That fatal thought has already occurred to me, that perhaps he did not rise again last night.  Would to God that that be not so! for then I should but too surely be an assassin.  He was my first thought when I awoke.  I thought of sending out to make inquiries.  But I did not dare do it.”

M. Folgat felt his heart oppressed with most painful anxiety, like the prisoner himself.  Hence he said at once,—­

“We cannot remain in this uncertainty.  We can do nothing as long as the count’s fate is unknown to us; for on his fate depends ours.  Allow me to leave you now.  I will let you know as soon as I hear any thing positive.  And, above all, keep up your courage, whatever may happen.”

The young advocate was sure of finding reliable information at Dr. Seignebos’s house.  He hastened there; and, as soon as he entered, the physician cried,—­

“Ah, there you are coming at last!  I give up twenty of my worst patients to see you, and you keep me waiting forever.  I was sure you would come.  What happened last night at Count Claudieuse’s house?”

“Then you know”—­

“I know nothing.  I have seen the results; but I do not know the cause.  The result was this:  last night, about eleven o’clock, I had just gone to bed, tired to death, when, all of a sudden, somebody rings my bell as if he were determined to break it.  I do not like people to perform so violently at my door; and I was getting up to let the man know my mind, when Count Claudieuse’s servant rushed in, pushing my own servant unceremoniously aside, and cried out to me to come instantly, as his master had just died.”

“Great God!”

“That is what I said, because, although I knew the count was very ill, I did not think he was so near death.”

“Then, he is really dead?”

“Not at all.  But, if you interrupt me continually, I shall never be able to tell you.”

And taking off his spectacles, wiping them, and putting them on again, he went on,—­